Hardly anything closer to me than dogs; ANYTHING!
But which isn't watching the other? "...hey, that's so coool, I should do it that way!"

"3 of my legs already in great shape" or "...she's such a flaunt. I'm not waggling MY butt for the camera"

Yup, watched and laughed out loud. Repeatedly.
Wrote a little and laughed again.
GIF isn't visible right now, still chuckling.

Oh yeah, notice both panting equally.
My grandfather, ~1905-1961, Russian immigrant, 1915 Ellis Island, had a favorite joke.
An oxen is pulling a heavily loaded plow, a fly riding along in his ear.
Adjoining furrow, ox with a fly in his ear too.
They approach, second fly notices his fly-friend, shouting out "Hey! Watcha doin' Bud?"
"We been plowin', all damn morning..."

In reality he had a lot of favorites.

Should I relate story of George Shitthammer?

Last edited by Toolmaker51; 03-01-2019 at 06:03 PM.

Sincerely,
Toolmaker51
...we'll learn more by wandering than searching...

I couldn't stop lookin & laughin'. LOL. reminds me of my jack russel, over weight, panting after killing a snake but there is no way I could entice him on to my wife's walking machine( I'm also alergic to it). Tail between the legs & disappear. He loves the boogy board in the rough but not so keen on skate board riding; which gave me the idea for a sales pitch: I sold it(the skatie) on gumtree with the caption "I'm a seadog but dont like bighting concrete". He had a very forlorn look on his face(just no lawn in sight within jumping distance).

basil3W and Phillip Davies want to know... [kind of lol 'international' enquirer's]. Same grandfather illustrated above, immigrated from Russia prior the Revolution, around 9 years old. As somewhat typical that era, whatever languages immigrants spoke, English [US] wasn't prevalent. He roomed where he worked, a little grocery market; by studying advertising and package labels he taught himself. But his sense of humor always carried the Russian gift for satire. This one I recall most often.

George Shitthammer of New York City, Lower East Side.
He'd tell you of a very dear friend, young George. George had some more education, being a little older. But new to the country, school system and our society, he felt embarrassed by that name, as the butt of jokes. He endured best he could, years upon years.

Finally, with his eighteenth birthday approaching [no longer a minor] the end was in sight; collecting documents and saving money toward fees to orchestrate his name change. The anticipation built rapidly, where the last week just unbearable.

On his birthday, papers in hand, first in line at the court house. His plaintive appeal was heard by the bench, what were mere seconds dragged by.
He realized success as judge awarded plea in the affirmative, happily freed of burden.
[Listener waits.......and waits.....] WELL? Changed his name right?

Yes, now it's Paul!

Sincerely,
Toolmaker51
...we'll learn more by wandering than searching...